


Under The Skin

by entanglednow



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale is Patient (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Unwanted Transformations, taking it slow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:41:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24357484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow
Summary: After getting together, Crowley and Aziraphale discover that there are unforeseen obstacles to intimacy.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 94
Kudos: 519





	Under The Skin

**Author's Note:**

> Part of my challenge to write some things under 1000 words last week. I had to sneak in one with a bit of a snake!Crowley theme. There's only one more left after this, which I'll try and get out tomorrow.

Aziraphale's half-way through his book when Crowley's fingers slide between the buttons of his pyjama shirt. 

He's always so resistant to asking for what he wants, everything a subtle suggestion, a hint, a question that Aziraphale can answer, or ignore. Though they both still have things to work through. They can't just throw themselves into this, and Aziraphale knows the demon finds that deeply frustrating.

"Are you in the mood to try something?" Aziraphale asks him, over the top of his book.

Crowley pulls a face, as if he hadn't wanted Aziraphale to voice it out loud. But he grumbles something that sounds like a yes, slithers upwards until he can curl a hand round Aziraphale's neck, pull him in for a kiss. It's lovely, it's everything he'd wanted for years. He hopes that kissing Crowley never feels anything but absolutely necessary.

Their mouths part, Crowley sighs a breath. "If I change -"

"Then we'll try again. We have all the time in the world now, there's no rush to get it right."

"That's easy for you to say," Crowley grumbles. "You don't revert to a mass of flaming wheels and eyes every time we try and have sex."

"Well, don't think I'm not tempted," Aziraphale says, with a smile, and more than a touch of honesty. Because the thought of tangling their true forms together is incredibly appealing, if a touch dangerous.

Crowley's mouth twitches briefly, where he's clearly fighting a smile, before it narrows again, pulls down.

"I feel like a bloody failure," he grates out.

"You're nothing of the sort," Aziraphale tells him, fingers drifting through his hair. "You're making incredible progress."

Crowley grunts annoyance, like he thinks he's being patronised, but they both know it's true. At the beginning, Aziraphale couldn't even kiss him without Crowley collapsing into an overwhelmed pile of shining coils. They've come such a long way.

Aziraphale undresses him slowly, sliding the black pyjamas off by hand, as Crowley impatiently tugs at his. He knows by now where Crowley is most sensitive, he knows what will cause scales to shiver their way across his skin, which touches will turn his voice into a hiss. When he has to pause, to let Crowley's body remember how to be human.

But eventually they're both gloriously naked, and Aziraphale is braced over him, kissing the long line of his throat, one hand on his narrow waist. Crowley's hand is fisted in the pillow, long fingers almost a bloodless white.

"Aziraphale -" It sounds like a warning.

Aziraphale stretches his hand upwards, gently opens Crowley's and threads their fingers together. It's enough for Crowley to give a quiet, desperate moan, spine bending in ways it shouldn't, forked tongue flicking and snapping through his lips.

"Focus, love," Aziraphale says gently.

Crowley squeezes his fingers, and determinedly pulls himself together again.

"You have no idea how many times I wanted to hold your hand," he mumbles, as if it's a shameful confession.

"And now you can," Aziraphale reminds him. "Whenever you like." He can't resist the smile. "You just have to remember which one of your forms is capable of that."

Crowley gives a miserable laugh. "I hate making you do this over and over."

Aziraphale makes a gentle, chiding noise.

"I would do this with you forever," he says. Because this is so much more than he ever thought they'd have together, an intimacy that he'd never dreamed would be real.

Aziraphale leans down and kisses him, and Crowley pushes up into it, mouth fierce against his own, other hand lifting to find the warmth of Aziraphale's skin.

"Touch me," Crowley demands, because he's never been patient.

Aziraphale's hand spreads on his stomach, then slips down. His fingers find the stiff line of Crowley's cock, which twitches under the circling grip of them. The beautiful, slender length of it is silky, and fiercely hot, fluid beading at the head, smearing on the skin as Aziraphale works him gently. There's a slow, rolling hiss when he lubricates his hand. 

"Still alright?" he asks.

There's a riot of silvery-black scales rippling and spreading across Crowley's chest in a wave. But his breathing is steady, and he's making soft noises of pleasure, one leg drawing up to press against Aziraphale's hip.

"Yes," he says, but it's a hard exhale of a word, as if he's threatening himself, demanding that his body behave.

Aziraphale knows that Crowley instinctively wants to slip into his original form for intimacy. That he doesn't want to hide, he wants to be himself, wants to let go and feel everything. He's forcing himself to hold his corporation when his entire being wants to curl around Aziraphale and never let go. But Aziraphale also knows Crowley well enough to realise that it's a sensitive place to press, that his original form is the seat of too many painful issues, too many insecurities.

Aziraphale just wants Crowley, always and forever, in any way that makes him happy, any way that he's comfortable with. 

So he works his cock, in slow, gentle strokes, listens to the beautiful, shaken huffs of air, lets Crowley's hands roam greedily across all his soft places, while he murmurs Aziraphale's name and pushes up with his hips. A wave of scales rolling down his throat, yellow eyes wide, pupils knife sharp. He takes a hissing breath -

"Wait, wait." There's a shaky edge to the word. Aziraphale releases Crowley's cock, smooths the skin of his hip in gentle, rhythmic strokes.

Crowley snaps his teeth, breathes heavily for a long moment.

"Ok, I'm good."

"You're doing fantastically well," Aziraphale tells him, and Crowley gives a growl of annoyance, but searches for his hand in the sheets. Aziraphale's other hand moves back down, to gently cup and then circle his cock again, to stroke it in relaxed, easy movements. 

"I don't want to change at the end," Crowley gets out between groans.

"I will love you exactly the same if you do," Aziraphale reassures him.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Under The Skin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24683764) by [Djapchan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Djapchan/pseuds/Djapchan)




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